When I Was Nine
by giacinta
Summary: Sam's point of view on the Christmas Eve he gave the amulet to Dean. Chapter Two. "When I was Thirteen." Dean's POV.
1. Chapter 1

When I Was Nine.

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Sam's POV.

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When I was nine, my life took a turn for the worse; not that it had been a Disney fairy-tale before that, but for the Christmas of that year Santa must have thought my life was too cushy and so he brought me the gift of Knowledge, the knowledge that monsters existed, the really nightmarish ones, and that worst of all my father's day and night job was hunting them down.

I've always been a bit emotional and quick to tears, and Dean has teased me no end over the years for it, alternating names such as" Girl, Princess," and well, whatever else came to his mind at the moment, but I don't think I sobbed as much as I did that long-ago Christmas. I usually tried to keep my feelings in check because I knew it upset Dean seeing me unhappy, but that day it all just overwhelmed me.

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It was Christmas Eve and Dean and I were on our own, again.

Dad had left him some money for food and stuff, well scratch the stuff part, as there was usually barely enough for the food!

When Dad went off you could never be sure when he would be back, although Dean had strenuously assured me that he had promised to be back for Christmas Day, but as the hours passed any hope I had for his return slowly melted away, even although Dean did his best to keep me cheerful.

I was particularly upset because that year I had managed to rustle up a gift for Dad.

I never possessed any money other that the few cents that Dean would pass me occasionally for a candy bar, but even if I had saved every coin for a year, I would never have had enough to buy anything decent, so I did the only thing I could and asked Bobby if he had somethng he didn't need, that I could give to Dad at Christmas.

Bobby had pottered about until he had finally come up with this ugly looking necklace. To be honest when I first saw it, I wasn't too enthusiastic, never believing that Dad would appreciate such a thing, but Bobby had assured me it was a powerful good-luck and protection charm.

That had made me hesitate an instant; Dad was all we had and if anything ever happened to him, Dean and I would be lost. As far as I knew we had no other relatives and the hideous vision of us being separated and sent to different foster homes or worse, played out before my eyes.

Somehow the amulet didn't seem so ugly after all and I almost grabbed it out of Bobby's hand. I told him that I would pay him for it just as soon as I had saved up enough money, but he just ruffled my hair and gave me a sympathetic look.

I stifled the urge to ask him for something for Dean too but I didn't want him to think I was taking advantage, so I kept my mouth shut.

Dean wouldn't be offended anyhow; he knew better than me that if we spent the little amount of cash Dad left us on gifts, then we wouldn't have money for food, and Dean would always be happier eating than receiving a dumb present.

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However, everything seemed to come together to make that Christmas the most miserable in existence, even the motel room was one of the crappiest I'd ever been in, and in my nine years of existence, I'd already seen many.

This time, I didn't understand how, Dad had forgotten to take his "secret" journal with him and I had found it behind one of the ratty cushions on the even rattier sofa. I had quickly hidden it under my bed to be examined later, as I could hear Dean opening the door.

Thinking back now, I believe Dad left it behind on purpose. He must have decided it was time for me to be inaugurated into the hunting world and knowing that Curiosity was my middle name, he probably thought that finding out by myself would have been easier. Yeah, easier for him maybe, but I was shocked out of my nine-year old mind!

My poor brother tried to deny it, but the cat was out of the bag and Dean went for the "Dad is a superhero" angle but I could read him like a book. He always tried to protect me from everything but this was outside my big brother's capabilities.

I knew that Dean was as upset as I for Dad's prolonged absence, although it wasn't so much for himself as for me. If I hadn't had Dean to look after me, which he had done better than any mother, I don't know that I would have survived my childhood on my own.

John might have been my father but Dean was my world and I knew I was his too.

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Dean had gone to the lengths of breaking and entering to bring me someone else's presents, but bad luck was our middle name, and he had ended up with girl's toys, a Sapphire Barbie and a magic wand no less!

Somehow the ridiculousness of it all had brought a smile to my lips.

Dean had done this for me, in his gruff attempt to give me a good Christmas. If anyone deserved a gift it was him and I pushed the little package into his hands. I had't had any fancy paper to wrap it in, so I had used a couple of pages ripped out from an old comic.

He took it hesitantly, as if he wasn't worthy enough to receive anything, but for me the ugly little amulet was nothing compared to what Dean did deserve; he merited so much more. He was only a kid himself and he had looked after me with love and care since he was four years old. There was nothing I could give him that could compensate for that.

The pleasure in Dean's eyes as he had placed it around his neck gave me more satisfaction than a room filled with the costliest of toys ever could. He thanked me so sincerely that I felt my treacherous eyes welling up again with tears, which I hastily pushed down, nodding my acceptance.

We passed the last hour of Christmas Eve watching the crappy little TV, side by side on the couch, eating whatever it was that Dean had brought in, until we finished up huddled together in sleep.

We had each other, nothing else mattered.

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XXXX The enD XXXX


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, and to "samiam" and "Casismyfavorite".

A companion piece to "When I Was Nine." Thanks to "mb64" for requesting it.

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When I Was Thirteen.

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"Look out for Sammy," were Dad's last words in the Motel yard, as he turned the Impala towards the exit.

The words were nothing new; he'd been repeating them for as long as I could remember, although since the time I had lowered my nine-year old guard and nearly let Sam be drained by a Shtriga, they had become heavier and more underlined, as if Dad was continually reminding me of my near failure.

Well, now I was thirteen and if anything came near Sam, there would be no hesitation.

I sighed. We had planned on spending the last week before Christmas in this motel, all in the family, as it were; but Dad had picked up on a case through browsing the week-old paper that had still been lying on the room's rickety table, and the lure of it was just too strong; way stronger than staying with me and Sam.

"I'll be back before Christmas! Don't worry, it's a simple salt and burn," he had declared confidently, as if what John Winchester dictated must come to pass.

"Listen, Dean," he continued hesitantly, as if trying to find the right words. "I think it's time that Sam found out about what we really do. He's nine and he'll have to know about it sooner or later and start training with you. He has to learn how to defend himself."

I felt myself go rigid as he spoke. He knew that I wanted to keep Sammy from finding out about the supernatural for as long as possible. Dad and I were here to look out for him. Why burden the kid with any more crap? His life was shitty enough as it was.

"Dad, we said that we would wait until Sammy was ten before telling him," I stuttered unhappily; it went against the grain for me to question my father.

Dad just studied me. He knew that if the choice was mine, Sammy would never know anything about hunting but unfortunately I knew that could never be. "Okay, Dean. We'll wait," he had said as he fumbled in his pockets and handed me the few dollars he had found, assuring me that they would be sufficient until he returned.

"Try and get back in time, Dad, It would mean a lot to Sammy, if you were here at Christmas." I almost begged.

"I said I'll be back, Dean," Dad had repeated with a point of anger, "and I will."

I sighed again. I had lost count of the times Dad had firmly asserted that he would just be away for a couple of days, only to turn up much, much later.

As I turned to go back to the room, I saw Sammy's face squashed up at the window and for the third time in about five minutes, I sighed.

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As the days passed and Christmas Day came ever nearer, my conviction that Dad wouldn't be back got stronger and stronger. I had gone out for some food to bring back to Sam but as I fished out the few coins that were left in my pockets, my heart fell. If Dad didn't come back soon, we would be eating the stained carpet on the room floor!

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I put on a brave face as I pushed open the door and threw a bag of onion rings to Sam. He was wrapping something in a couple of comic book pages. "You didn't rip up my latest issue did you, Sammy?" I asked in mock anger. My latest was, well; it wasn't very recent!

Sam just looked at me in his early version of a bitch-face making me feel lousy for the kid. No Christmas, no presents, nothing. Just me and Dad.

"It's a present for Dad. I asked Bobby for something and he found me this to give to him".

It figures, I thought. Money for presents was the last thing we had.

"He'll be back for Christmas, won't he?" Sam asked, his face a big question-mark.

I'm a good liar and even at thirteen my skills were not too bad, so I lied through my teeth. It was Christmas Eve. If Dad didn't show up soon he probably wouldn't get here in time.

"He promised, Sammy. He'll be back, you'll see. We'll have a great Christmas."

Sam just nodded. Dad had let us down too often and Sammy was no fool.

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"Dean!" Sam called d from the bed he was stretched out on, "Dad left this behind."

"What?" I asked without turning my head.

"His journal."

I jumped off the divan, went over to the bed and sat opposite Sam, my blood running cold. What if he had read it? "Is what's in here true?" Sammy asked, his eyes two round pools.

Dad never forgets his journal. No, I thought to myself; if Dad did this, it was on purpose. He left it behind hoping Sam would see it.

I remembered his words in the parking lot. He had wanted Sam to find out.

Son of a bitch, was the curse I directed to my father at that moment! He just couldn't let Sam have another few months of ignorance. No, Dad wanted to start training Sam, and what John Winchester wanted, John Winchester got.

There was no point in lying. Now that Sam had come out and asked me directly I wasn't going to deny it, even although it broke my heart to have to say "Yes, Sam."

"These monsters really exist?" Sam repeated, both awed and frightened.

I threw it on to Dad being a super-hero and destroying evil bitches, but I could see that Sam was overwhelmed by my confirmation on the journal's contents, and he turned away from me curling into a ball and crying his eyes out.

I fled the room before I started crying too.

That was it! I swore to myself that Sammy was at least going to have a decent Christmas!

I wandered down the street, eventually finding myself in a richer neighbourhood. A wild idea was taking form in my mind. I knew how to pick a lock, and stealing presents for Sammy was nothing to me. I would've done anything for Sam.

I came out with a couple of presents and a cut-off piece of the house-owner's Christmas Tree, plus one of the sets of light that adorned the monster pine in their living room.

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Sammy must have fallen into an exhausted sleep for he didn't hear me come in, nor did he move as I set everything up.

"Look Sammy, Dad's been back and he left you some presents," I stated with false cheer, as I saw him stirring..

Sam just stated at me, his expression halfway between disbelief and wanting to believe.

"Come on Sam. Come and open them," I encouraged him.

A Sapphire Barbie and a Magic Wand. I guess I had raided the wrong house.

Sammy took it well though. I suppose when you never expected anything, you didn't really remain all that upset when it didn't work out.

He just gave me a long-suffering glance and a resigned huff.

"Here," he said as he pushed the paper-covered package towards me. "You take it Dean. Dad never came back at all did he? I want you to have it."

"Are you sure Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm sure." I took the gift as if it was fragile glass, taking my time in unwrapping it. It's not as if I got many gifts, other than spare bullets and stuff.

It was a necklace, an amulet to be exact and a piss-poor ugly one at that, but to me it was beautiful and made a thousand times more precious because it was my baby brother who had given it to me. I put it round my neck admiring it as it fell against my chest.

"I love it, Sam," was all I said as I exchanged looks with my little brother. I would never take it off, I swore.

I broke that oath to Sammy, as I had failed him in many other ways, but that night we sat on the ratty sofa and curled up together to watch TV, our bond somehow strengthened by the gift, given and received.

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End file.
